


I've got you

by hypercharles



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: 5 Things, 5+1 Things, Childhood sexual assault, Heavy Themes, Hurt Peter Parker, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Irondad, Parent Tony Stark, Protective Tony Stark, Skip Wescott is evil, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-18 22:43:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20646896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypercharles/pseuds/hypercharles
Summary: Peter's got a secret. It's starting to affect his relationship with Tony. Tony vows to figure it out, and he does not like what he finds.ORFive clues and Tony's inevitable discovery





	I've got you

**Author's Note:**

> SO here I am writing another 5 things fic instead of updating my chaptered fanfics. OOOOOPs. My bad.

Peter is laughing, a wide smile on his face. Tony looks at him, and he can’t help but grin. Peter had had a tough life, and after everything with the Vulture, Tony was afraid that Peter wouldn’t get to be a kid anymore. But here he was laughing at Dum-E failing spectacularly at trying to make eggs.

“He—” Peter laughs again, interrupting himself. “He—he didn’t even take the eggs out of the carton! He just—he just yeeted the whole thing into the microwave. Not even the stove!” He’s clutching his stomach at this point. “You probably shouldn’t have tried this in your actual kitchen, Mr. Stark.”

Tony fakes a scowl and mock-glares at Peter. “Alright, let’s see you program a robot to make a multi-step meal that involves fine motor skills!”

“No way, Mr. Stark! Then I couldn’t laugh at you!” Peter giggles again, and Tony can’t even be mad at the insult. Peter just looks so happy.

“Okay, kiddo. Whatever you say. I’ll have—” Tony cuts himself off, and Peter dissolves into another wave of laughter.

“You’ll have Dum-E clean it up? I wouldn’t trust him anywhere near that microwave ever again!”

Tony grumbles. “Well, I guess it’s you and me cleaning this up.”

Peter giggles again. “The great Tony Stark, cleaning melted cardboard and exploded eggs out of a microwave. Why didn’t you stop him?”

“I didn’t know that eggs explode in the microwave! I thought it was just going to end up with rotten eggs!” Tony brandishes a wet cloth at Peter.

Peter grabs another cloth out of the drawer and wets it. He grabs the dish soap and hands it to Tony. “It’ll be easier to just squirt the dishsoap onto the metal. That way the bits you aren’t scrubbing get to soak in the soap until you get there.”

Tony gives Peter a look. “I take it you’ve microwaved a few eggs in your day?”

The boy just gives him a wide-eyed innocent look.

Tony shakes his head and then squirts the soap into the microwave.

By the time the microwave is clean, Tony’s whole arm smells like spoiled milk. He’s not sure why it smells like spoiled milk, but it does all the same. Peter is still grinning and hums to himself as rinses the cloths.

“Don’t bother trying to clean the cloths. Just throw them away. I’ll buy new ones.”

Peter shrugs and tosses the rag onto the pile of gooey cardboard in the trash.

The two of them head back down to the lab. Peter catches sight of Dum-E hiding in the corner and bursts out laughing again.

Tony glares at the robot. “I ought to get you the cone of shame, Dum-E.” He shakes his finger at it for dramatic effect. Peter is doubled over, his whole body heaving with the force of his laughter.

“Alright, Einstein,” Tony says. “Let’s get back to work.”

Peter’s laughter abruptly cuts out. “Don’t call me that,” he snaps.

Tony turns to him, surprised. He’s never heard the kid’s voice sound that hard before.

“Wha—Sorry, kiddo. What’s wrong?” Tony tries to catch Peter’s eye, but the teen keeps his head down.

Peter kicks his foot out to the side, rubbing the toe of his shoe against a nearby table leg. “No—it’s just—I don’t like that name. I didn’t mean to get angry. I’m fine.”

“Is it—you know you can tell me anything, right, Kiddo?” Tony knows that Peter’s reaction isn’t just him not liking the name, but that doesn’t tell Tony what is really going on.

“I—It’s fine, Mr. Stark. This—this one guy used to call me that.” Peter still isn’t looking at Tony. “We—uh, I just—he—we don’t talk anymore.”

Tony gets a funny feeling in his stomach. “Sorry, Kiddo. I didn’t mean to drag up bad memories.”

Peter just nods. “I’m—um—I’m pretty tired, Mr. Stark. Mind if I crash in the spare room?”

“You know that room belongs to you, Pete,” Tony says absently. He’s still trying to figure out why his gut is telling him something is off.

Peter turns and heads up the stairs.

Tony sits heavily in his chair. _That was a strong reaction for someone you just don’t talk to anymore, _he thinks to himself. _Maybe they had a falling out?_

Tony pushes the thoughts aside and pulls a random set of blueprints in front of him. He tries not to think about how quiet the lab is without Peter’s laughter.

* * *

Peter doesn’t come to the lab the next day, and Tony pretends that he doesn’t feel hurt by the rejection. _Maybe Peter just has homework, _he tells himself.

It takes another two days for Peter to show his face. He walks up to Tony and gives him a giant hug.

Tony pats Peter on the bag, partly surprised by this show of affection. Peter is usually too awkward to initiate this kind of thing.

Everything is perfectly normal for the next month. Tony has almost forgotten about the “Einstein incident” when the next thing happens.

Tony is trying to get ready for a presentation of one of his smaller inventions. Peter’s coming with him, and Tony is excited to show off his “intern” to some of his business partners. Peter doesn’t know this yet, but Tony’s setting him up to be the next head of Stark Industries.

He hears a soft knock on his bedroom door. He opens it to find Peter, dressed in a spiffy navy-blue suit.

“Happy sent me to fetch you, Mr. Stark. Says it’s time to head out.” Peter smiles ruefully, seeing that Tony is still trying to knot his tie properly.

Tony sighs and gives up on the tie, throwing it aside. “Let’s go, Pete.”

The presentation takes an hour, but they stay longer for drinks. The head of Google—Tony can’t remember the guy’s name for the life of him—has rented a function hall that included a bar. Peter has struck up a conversation with Mr. Culp, the CEO of GE.

Another hour or so goes by, and Peter has taken to shadowing Tony. Tony doesn’t mind; he knows Peter gets anxious around so many strangers.

The four hundredth bigwig comes up to talk, and hands Tony a drink. Tony takes it and brings it up to his mouth, but is stopped by Peter snatching the glass. “Don’t drink that, Mr. Stark!” His voice is pitched high, like it is when he’s scared.

Tony turns to Peter, eyebrows in the sky. “What?”

Peter sets the glass down hastily. “Never accept open drinks if you haven’t watched the glass every step of the process,” Peter says softly.

Tony turns back to Mr. CEO Guy and laughs a little. “I guess Peter here must have just had his ‘stay safe’ lecture from his aunt.”

The man laughs. “No offense taken, little man,” he says to Peter. “I’m glad you're looking after your mentor so diligently.”

Peter flushes red. “I didn’t mean to imply—” He bites off the end of his sentence. “I’m—I’m going to go find Happy. He’s probably bored.”

Tony files the event away to address when he has a chance.

His chance doesn’t come until the ride home. Peter is staring out the window as the streetlights blur past.

“What was that with the drink, Pete?” Tony asks.

Peter blushes again and shrugs. “I just—You always hear about the shit people put in people’s drinks. I didn’t—” he breaks off and tugs on his tie. “I didn’t mean to insult that guy.”

“I don’t think he was offended,” Tony says kindly. “I’m just concerned about you, Kiddo.”

“I—um—I guess I just didn’t want anything to happen to you, Mr. Stark. Have you ever read about what a—a—date-r—what a drug like Rohypnol does to a person? It messes you up, makes you feel totally out of control. Messes with your memory, everything feels like it’s been covered with cotton and you can barely even control your own blinking, you’re totally vulnerable. I was just worried.”

Tony just shakes his head a bit. “I guess I didn’t really think about that, Pete.”

Peter fidgets, and the rest of the ride passes in silence.

Tony googles date-rape drugs that night. He can’t find anything about the world feeling like cotton, not until he starts scrolling through survivor’s testimony on a blog about date-rape.

Tony feels a bit nauseous. He can’t help but remember the fear in Peter’s voice as he grabbed that drink from Tony’s hand.

* * *

This time only a week passes until the next incident.

They’re in the lab, music blasting. Tony is dancing as he works, and Peter is bobbing his head to the beat as he writes down equations.

Tony narrates his train of thought as he evaluates Peter’s work, and Peter makes the appropriate adjustments as they go.

The song changes halfway through Peter’s question about Navier-Stokes equations, and Peter’s face goes white.

Tony turns to see what’s the matter, and immediately puts down his pen and reaches towards the boy. Peter flinches back dramatically and trips, falling hard into the table behind him and landing on the floor. Tony steps forward, but before he can get a word out, Peter is speaking.

“No! Don’t! Please—just—can you change the song?” He’s babbling, stuttering.

Tony immediately tells Jarvis to shut the music off. The silence covers the two geniuses.

Peter awkwardly tries to stand up. Tony reaches out to help him, and Peter cringes away from his hand.

“I’m fine, Mr. Stark,” he says, and for the third time in as many months, Tony is denied eye contact.

“Kid, you just flinched hard enough to land on the floor, and all I did was lift my hand. That doesn’t seem fine.” Tony watches Peter’s face, trying to gauge the teen’s reaction.

“You startled me, I guess.” Peter shrugs.

“Your face turned white when the song came on.”

Peter blanches again. “I don’t like that song.”

Tony leans against the counter behind him and crosses his arms. “You don’t like the song? Buddy, that’s a pretty extreme reaction for ‘not liking’ a song.”

Peter sits down on a chair and pulls his knees to his chest. “It—He—The guy. That called me E—E-Einstein—he –he really liked this song. And he would play it when—He played it a lot.” Peter clears his throat. “I _really_don’t like that song.” He looks up at Tony, his face pleading the older man to let it go.

Tony sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Kiddo…” he trails off and looks at Peter’s hands. They’re trembling, shaking so badly that Peter can’t keep a grip on the pen he was using. It falls to the ground, and Peter jumps at the sound.

Tony sighs again. “Alright, Pete. Alright. Do you want to keep working, or…?”

Peter shakes his head. “I—I think I want to go to bed, Mr. Stark.”

Tony nods. He expected that answer.

Peter gets up. He pauses at the door to the lab. “I’m sorry, Mr. Stark. I didn’t mean to ruin the night.”

“You didn’t ruin the night, Peter. Sleep tight, no bedbugs, all that.”

Peter gives Tony a small smile, and then he’s gone.

Tony sits down and waits until he’s sure Peter is out of earshot. “Jarvis, put the lyrics of ‘My Sharona’ onto the main screen.”

“Here you are, Sir. Shall I play the song?” The floating voice sounds almost gentle.

“Not now, Jarvis.” Tony peers up at the screen and reads the words to the song.

_Never gonna stop, give it up, such a dirty mind_

_I always get it up for the touch of the younger kind…_

Tony feels a stone settle in his stomach.

* * *

The stone doesn’t go away any time soon. Tony starts watching Peter closer than ever, hoping to God that he won’t find the signs he’s looking for.

He starts making sure to spend equal time with Peter in and out of the lab. They watch sci-fi movies and make fun of the physics errors. Peter finally shows Tony how he makes his webs and Tony goes nuts trying to find alternative uses for the substance.

Tony starts letting Peter choose the music, and Peter makes a whole playlist filled with both his and Tony’s favorite songs. Tony notices that Peter never plays anything by Michael Jackson. He asks Peter about it, oh so casually. Peter bites his lip and tells Tony that May says Michael Jackson is a bad man.

Tony lets it go, not wanting a repeat of the “My Sharona” meltdown, and just adds it to his “Things-about-peter-that-worry-me” file in his mind.

The fourth incident is the worst yet.

Tony is half asleep, lazily watching reruns of _Friends_. It’s nearing midnight. He’s about to finally go to bed when Jarvis alerts him that Peter on the roof.

Tony goes up to the roof, and at first, he can’t find Peter. He activates the outdoor lights, and that’s when he sees him.

Peter, in the pants and undershirt he usually wears under the Spiderman suit. The suit in question is in a ball on the ground, the mask laying near it. Peter has his knees pulled to his chest, and he’s crying.

Tony runs over to him. “Are you hurt? What happened? Why didn’t the suit alert me to an injury?”

Peter heaves a breath. “I—I’m not hurt. I’m fine. I just—”he sobs again. Tony kneels in front of him.

“Hey, Peter. I need you to look at me, okay? I need to know that you’re not hurt. Can you do that for me?”

Peter looks up, and Tony’s heart hurts at the look in his eyes. “I’m okay, Mr. Stark. I just—I got—he—” he breaks off again. Tony cautiously reaches out to him, and when the teenager doesn’t push him away, Tony pulls him into a hug. Peter’s tears fall on Tony’s shoulder as he cries.

“Shhh, Pete. Shhhh.” Tony rocks Peter. When the boy’s sobs die down a little. Tony adjusts their position and lifts Peter up as he stands. He takes Peter inside and gets him seated on the couch.

“Underoos, what’s going on? Did something happen on your patrol?” Tony’s voice is soft, not wanting Peter to feel like he’s being interrogated.

Peter shrugs, and picks at a loose thread on the couch cushion. “I—There was this little boy, and he—he told me that his dad was—was – bad touching him. And I – I didn’t know what to do. I just—I couldn’t—I didn’t know how to— I called the cops, Mr. Stark. I don’t know—I don’t know if that was the right thing to do but I couldn’t just leave him there with him and –”

Tony shushes him softly again. “It’s alright, Pete. You did good.”

Peter pulls at the string hard enough to snap it, and starts winding it around his fingers. “He asked me to help him, and I just called someone else to deal with it instead.”

Tony rubs Peter’s back gently. “Peter, you did the right thing. That boy needed the police, needed legal help, not you slinging webs. You helped him get the help he needs, okay?”

Peter nods, then shakes his head, and then nods. “You think—you think he’s—do you think he’s mad at me, for leaving? I stayed while he talked to the cops, but I left once his mom got home.”

“Peter, you’re that boy’s hero. You did the right thing,” Tony repeats.

Peter yawns, his eyes drooping. “I’m tired, Mr. Stark. I—I don’t know why that made me so tired.”

Tony laughs dryly. “Emotional energy is still energy, buddy. You used a lot up tonight.”

Peter nods. Tony laughs again. “Let’s get you to bed.” With that, he picks Peter back up and carries him into the room Peter usually claims as his own.

He lays Peter down on the bed, and Peter blinks up at him slowly. “Thanks, Mr. Stark. I don’t think my neck would appreciate sleeping on your couch.”

Tony smiles. He grabs a set of pajama pants from the closet and leans over Peter to help him get his day-clothes off. Peter freezes as soon as Tony’s hands touch the hem of his shirt.

“No—I don’t like—Don’t, Skip. Just—” Peter snaps his mouth shut.

Tony rears back. “Pete…”

Peter closes his eyes. “Sorry, Mr. Stark. I can get changed on my own.”

Tony gets up off the bed. “Don’t be sorry, Peter. I’ll let you get some sleep.”

“Don’t—Don’t go?” Peter says, voice going up like he’s not sure if it’s a question or a command.

Tony sits back down. “Okay, buddy. I’ll turn around while you get changed.”

Peter blushes.

Once Peter’s in his pajamas and settled in the bed, Tony turns out the light. He sits up against the headboard next to Peter.

“I didn’t—I’m sure you have more important things to do, Mr. Stark,” Peter whispers.

“Nothing’s more important than you, Peter.”

Tony stays there all night. He soothes Peter when he starts crying in his sleep, humming a lullaby his own nanny used to sing to him.

The stone in his stomach feels more like a boulder.

* * *

“Mr. Stark?” Peter’s voice breaks the silence in Tony’s lab. Tony jerks.

“What are you doing here, Pete?” He asks.

Peter is staring at the ground, but Tony can see blood on his knuckles and the material of his patrol suit is torn at the shoulder. “I can go if—”  
  


“No, no! Stay! I just meant that you’re not usually here until later.” Tony studies Peter. “Is that—Peter, do you have a black eye?”

Peter looks up, and Tony gasps. A black eye doesn’t even begin to cover it. His face is a collage of black and blue bruising.

“I—uh—went back to see that little boy. The—uh—the cops let his dad go. I didn’t—I didn’t know. So I tried to go through the window again, and I saw him—he was hurting him—and—” Peter’s voice is stretched thin, and his eyes dart back and forth around the room. Tony dares not say a word, feeling like any sound would spook Peter into shutting down.

“He was—He was hurting him. He—he was—he was on top of him, Mr. Stark!” Peter wails. “He was—he was talking the boy’s clothes off and his pants were unzipped and I tried to step in and he slapped it at me, and he—he was big and I got between him and the boy—and I told him to run—and then the man—he was just hitting me and I couldn’t—I couldn’t fight back—and he got on—he knocked me over—and he—he—he—” Peter heaves and frantically jerks his hands through his hair.

“What did he do, Peter?” Tony asks, and Peter starts the stuttering up again.

“He—he punched me in the stomach and then I was on the ground—and the boy was gone but I could still hear—hear him crying—and then the man—he—he grabs my hair—and he—he shoved my face—my face—and” He breaks off into sobs, and Tony’s blood boils. Before he can say anything, Peter continues.

“He held on to me by my hair—and I couldn’t—I couldn’t get free—and he—he—he shoved my face into his crotch and – and he asked if I wanted to take the boy’s place—and said that—that it was me or the kids—and he pulled—pulled himself out—and tried to take my mask off--and then the cops showed up—and they pulled him off me—and I could see that he—he was still, still _hard_—but I—they wanted me to go to the hospital but I—I couldn’t—they’d see my face—so I – I just came here—and—I need help, Tony. I can’t do this.”

Tony grabs Peter into a hug, mindful of how hurt the boy is. “I’ve got you, Peter, I’ve got you.”

He collapses to the ground, Peter still in his arms. “I’ve got you, Baby. It’s alright. You’re safe. You’re safe with me.”

Peter’s sobs eventually soften, until he’s just hiccupping.

“Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

Tony just shakes his head. “This isn’t your fault, kiddo. Let me take you to the hospital? As Peter Parker who got jumped, not Spiderman hurt in the line of duty.”

Peter sniffs, and then nods.

Tony calls May while Peter is getting checked out by the doctor. 20 minutes later she bangs through the emergency room doors, making a beeline toward Tony. “Where is he?” she demands.

“Getting examined,” Tony says. “He’s got some pretty bad bruising, but nothing’s broken.”

“Was he—it was—he was on duty, right?” She asks, glancing around for any eavesdroppers.

Tony sighs and nods. “He—he came across a man… hurting his son and got between them. The man had—had no qualms about hitting Spiderman, because Peter had previously told the cops that the same guy had been—molesting his son.”

May goes pale. “He—Peter got between them? There’s something you’re not telling me.” She looks directly into Tony’s eyes.

“The man—he was—he tried to sexually assault Peter, but the cops got there before he could get Peter’s mask off to—you know. He showed up at my place pretty shaken up. He didn’t let the cops bring him as Spiderman, so I took him here as Peter.”

May has tears running down her face. “Oh my god, Peter,” she breathes. 

The doctors come to retrieve Tony (and May), bringing them to Peter’s bedside. “He’s got some pretty bad bruising. This one, on his face,” The doctor gestures to a particularly nasty bruise on Peter’s jaw, “I’m classifying this one as a traumatic hematoma. I’d like to monitor the bruising on his stomach. If he starts complaining about a sharp, stabbing pain, bring him in. If he starts coughing, puking, or peeing blood, bring him in. Other than that, I recommend lots of ice and lots of rest.”

The doctor has May sign about 50 different sheets of paper, and then the three are sent on their way.

May insists that Peter come home, so Tony drives them back to their apartment. He helps Peter get up the stairs, but Peter asks for May’s help getting cleaned up and changed. Tony waits awkwardly, not sure if Peter would rather he stay or leave.

Peter eventually asks for him again, and Tony spends another night sitting vigil for Peter.

He hates that this has happened. He hates the man who did this with every fiber of his being.

Peter didn’t deserve this.

* * *

It takes over a month for the bruise on Peter’s jaw to fully heal. Thankfully, it’s summer, so Peter doesn’t have to worry about questions at school.

Peter is jumpy, skittish. He doesn’t laugh, or hardly even smile. Tony does everything he can to help Peter feel normal, but he doesn’t know how to help all the time.

Peter spends practically every waking moment plastered to Tony’s side. He avoids going on patrol unless Iron Man joins him. He refuses to run on errands for May on his own. Any time a man even looks at Peter on the street, Peter ducks behind Tony.

Tony walks him through more than a dozen panic attacks.

It’s not until an especially bad nightmare that everything comes together.

“No—No don’t!” Peter is shouting. “Skip—please—I don’t want—I don’t want to do this anymore! Let me—Help! Please!”

Tony sings a little louder and tries to gently wake Peter. “Come on, kiddo, you’re okay. This is just a dream. I’m right here.”

“May! May, please!” Peter begs, thrashing in the bed, hands clenching the sheets so hard they start to rip. “Don’t let him—don’t leave me here! Skip, I don’t want this! Ben! Ben, where are you? Please, help me!”

He pants, sweat covering his face. Tony shakes his shoulder. Peter wakes with a gasp, still calling for Ben.

Tony rubs Peter’s back as Peter gasps for breath, and Peter collapses onto Tony.

“Mr. Stark! You’re still here!”

“I’ll always be here for you, Pete. Always.” Tony rocks Peter, and the two eventually fall asleep like that.

The next day, Peter sits on the couch next to Tony. A show is playing on the TV, but neither man is watching.

Peter mutes the TV and takes a deep breath.

“I—The man last night,” he starts, voice shaky. “He wasn’t—he wasn’t the first to do that to me.” Peter stares at the TV, watching the silent array of characters. He doesn’t say anything else.

“Okay,” Tony finally says. “Okay, Peter. You don’t have to say anything else if you don’t want to. I understand.”

Peter shakes his head. “You deserve to know, Mr. Stark.” He takes another deep breath. “When I was a kid—maybe seven or eight, May and Ben were both working, and didn’t want to leave me alone all day in the summer. So I had this—this babysitter, but May and Ben always just said that he was my friend. And at first he was my friend. He let me watch TV and he helped me learn how to ride my bike, and he called me Einstein anytime I said something smart.

“And then he—he started doing little things. I didn’t understand at first. But he’d—he’d have me sit on his lap, sometimes, and he would—he started—touching me. Not bad, at first, just a graze here and there. And some of the movies had—had sex and stuff. Then—then he started touching me—down there. He’d—he’d say that it was crazy, that he got to teach Einstein something new.

“he’d have me sit on his lap, and he’d sing that song and touch me. And then—it got worse. He started taking my pants off once we were alone, and I’d have to—have to go around the house naked. If I complained, he’d make me—make me—make me pose for pictures. He would—he would play those movies, but they weren’t movies, they were just porn, and he’d make me sit on his lap and he’d—he’d get _hard_and I could always feel it and he would make me touch it and sometimes he’d push me down between his legs and make me—make me put it in my mouth. And he’d hold me down on him by my hair and I’d always choke and he’d just turn the volume up and—

“And he would—he would put his fingers—inside me. And it hurt, it hurt a lot. If I cried, he’d—one time he got mad and he—he put it inside me and it hurt more than anything ever before and I cried so hard I passed out and when I woke up he was—he was still in me.

“It went on all summer, because I didn’t dare tell anyone. He said he’d show everyone the pictures and I didn’t want anyone to know! But then—then he was—he was touching me one time and Ben came home early and he got so mad. He was so mad and Skip tried to run away but Ben, Ben tackled him and hit him so hard. And then he called the cops and I—I never saw Skip again.”

Peter is barely coherent by the end, he’s crying so hard. Tony is silent for a long moment.

“Peter—I can’t even imagine—I’m so, so sorry, sweetheart. That shouldn’t—you didn’t deserve that.”

Peter just sniffles. “I’m sorry you’ve wasted so much time on me, Mr. Stark.”

“What—Peter, none of the time I spend with you is ever wasted. I love you, hanging out with you.”

Peter shakes his head. “I’m too much. I’m damaged goods, Mr. Stark. I’ll drag you down.”

Tony hugs Peter even tighter. “You are not broken, you are not damaged goods. You are an amazing, talented, genius and I love every minute I spend with you.”

Peter looks up at him through water logged eyelashes. “You do?”

“Of course, Peter. You’re everything to me.”

“Thanks, dad,” Peter says. Tony freezes, and Peter immediately tries to backpedal.

“Sorry, Mr. Stark. I’m not sure why—”

“Peter, it’s okay. I consider you my son, buddy.” Tony meets Peter’s eye to make sure Peter knows he’s telling the truth.

Peter smiles. “Okay, dad.”

He giggles a little, and that’s when Tony knows that things are going to be okay.


End file.
